This is not even remotely what I expected.  Nothing.  I am sitting in a hushed and very elegant restaurant at an unfashionable hour so I have just the right amount of company and solitude.  I had milk tea with a “hint of almond” which turned out to be real almonds crushed and scattered over my cup, not a flavoring.  That was yesterday at the Ghibli -- yesterday?  incredible, it seems like decades ago.  I need some help, and I’m getting it.  First from Pico Iyer, who wrote The Lady and the Monk, Four Seasons in Kyoto, part of the homework assigned to me by Masato Fujiwara, my builder-guide I’ll meet Monday.  By the time I meet him, perhaps I’ll be ready to hear what he has to say.

Dear reader, life is made up of many paths and levels and we can walk down the same street experiencing heaven or hell and much of that is through the gifts and grace of others, not our precious and all-knowing selves.  I have been struggling to understand what is happening to me and Pico Iyer explained it all in a few pages, which is all I’ve read so far.  I am grateful and hope I may some day be a guide like that.

What is happening is that here in the restaurant I’ve just had my first cup of real, pure, amber Japanese tea, brought to the table with fresh olive-green leaves in a strainer.  I feel transported -- that’s Japanese, maybe -- and I want more -- well, that’s pretty American I suspect.  Maybe there’s nothing like one’s first taste of Japanese tea.

There are many events and impressions which led up to this moment.  I should scribble furiously to get them down.  Once you move levels and get accustomed to the new, it’s almost impossible to share the journey.

I came here with an impression of Japan which came from observing  Japanese tourists, Kurosawa movies, and some newspaper accounts over the years.  I’m afraid my attitude wasn’t very respectful.  I am humbled to say the least.  Here are my impressions from today:  *teens playing baseball in the Imperial Gardens.  *The way the Japanese greet each other, which I’ve been privileged to witness dozens of times because of where I’m staying and spending time.  There must be tourists somewhere, but I haven’t seen them.  Maybe ten in two days.  *Costumed young people posing for photographs outside the Manga museum.  Orange, grey, purple wigs, cartoon clothing, costume formal swords.  They were very good at it and photos from the sidewalk were not allowed.  I don’t think any of it was real though.  *A big bookstore, filled with Japanese leafing through books and magazines.  Thousands of volumes and dozens of customers and not one word of any language but Japanese, except an instruction in English “no pets”.  *Looking out my sixth floor window at two am into the courtyard next door.  Faintly lit orange glow of someone saying prayers.

I said I was getting help.  My server is a truly beautiful young woman with a sweet face.  Much of Japan, I think, is about seeking to please.  Each other but also maybe anyone.  Not for what you can get.  For me, the gift and my assignment is to be pleased.  By feeling and showing my pleasure in this tea, I communicated something and made her happy.  My grumpy and arrogant self withholds that.

I can see that the attention of such a young woman whose assignment is my happiness would be of great value -- what the geishas do for men, I have heard. 

This is the most traditional of women’s roles, but right now I can see it has dignity and even holiness, an expression of love.

I’m very confused.

***

I have now returned to the restaurant, several days later, and in the tradition of no two moments the same, I’ve talked with Fumika Moriwaki, as I now know her and learned that she is finishing a business degree with a concentration in tourism.  I am sure she will be an asset to Japan.  She taught me some lessons which she has obviously learned already.  Hi, Fumika.  Much has been written about the relationship between character and author, but probably not much about how that works when the people you write about read your blogposts in real time!